


Last Christmas

by lornesgoldenhair



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:53:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lornesgoldenhair/pseuds/lornesgoldenhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strangely written before the Last Christmas episode was announced this version of 'Last Christmas' focuses on Clara's attempts to prevent the Doctor getting into trouble during the festive season again. Whouffaldi all the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Christmas

 

 

Clara’s fingers were sticky with stuffing as she kneaded the mixture in one of four glass casserole dishes. Good old sage and onion, chestnut, stodgy sausage meat and just because she had a new recipe book, a pork apricot and pistachio experiment. She wasn’t entirely sure that one went with turkey but it sounded impressive and, she had to admit, a small part of her wanted to impress. Not that that was the main purpose of today’s cooking. She had higher motives than that. Clara glanced at her cellphone on the counter, open on speakerphone and dialing ‘the Doctor.’

‘Come on…. Why do you always take so long to answer?’

She stopped kneading when a sudden thought struck her, maybe she was too late already? She glanced at her watch, 8am. 8am on Christmas morning. All over the country little kids were already playing with new toys and thousands of women like her were up to their wrists in stuffing mix. He couldn’t have managed to get himself into trouble already could he?

‘Clara!’ his voice echoed over the lined. He sounded suspiciously cheerful.

‘Finally, where were you?’

‘Oh nowhere really just doing a bit of research. Fancy a quick trip to the Huldranian nebula? Apparently on Huldain IV there’s a species of giant mantis that is currently rampaging through the humanoid population…..’ Clara stared straight ahead of her, her hands in the stuffing, _this_ , this was pretty much what she had expected, he was impossible, ‘…. And so I’ve been in the lab putting together a sonic beam. Mantis are very sensitive to high pitches…’

‘You know what, great!’ she said brightly, ‘Sounds great, brilliant in fact, come over and we’ll get going.’

There was a pause and Clara winced, she had sounded unusually enthusiastic about going on an impromptu Mantis Purge and maybe she had overdone it.

There was a slight banging noise and Clara could just picture him rummaging about in a box of scrap parts for mantis sonics while cradling the phone on his shoulder ‘OK, good,’ he said at last, ‘Wear something sensible. Wellingtons, maybe. There’s going to be goop.’

‘Sounds…. Good,’ she managed to tone her enthusiasm down this time. The Doctor hung up and Clara quickly wiped down her hands. Phase one completed, now for phase two.

She trotted to the living room, he was most likely to land there as there was the most space although now and then he did pop up in her bedroom or when being particularly inconvenient in the hall blocking her exit. She smiled a half smile, yes well he was going to learn all about inconvenient now. Quickly she ran through her moves in her mind and after casting her eyes around the room decided to set up position by the sofa, nice and central, so that wherever he landed she could quickly dive and…

…. The sound of TARDIS engines made her heart race even faster than usual.

‘Here you come,’ she muttered, ‘Come to Clara, Doctor.’

As predicted the time machine began to appear in the corner of the room, fading in and out for a few seconds to the noisy backdrop of its whining instruments. Clara braced herself and the door opened, the Doctor’s face registering his surprise at finding her standing directly in front of him.

‘You’re keen today,’ he observed, ‘And not very sensibly dressed for Mantis killing, is that an apron?’

‘Yes it is,‘ Clara stood with her arms held slightly open as though she were about to save a goal. She licked her lips.

‘Um… are you all right?’ The Doctor queried.

‘Yep, just doing a little cooking, nothing special.’

He looked past her and suddenly paled.

‘Oh… oh… no….’ he started but she was too fast for him. Clara tackled him hard around his middle and used her slight frame’s leverage to turn him on the spot so placing herself between him and the TARDIS door.

‘Strike one!’ she exclaimed.

‘Clara let me back into the TARDIS immediately,’ he ordered, ‘I know what you’re up to.’

‘Do you?’ she said triumphantly trying to stop herself from jigging on the spot like a lunatic, ‘Do you really?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘and it has to do with _that_.’ He pointed with one outstretched arm to the opposite side of the room. Clara did not need to follow his direction to know he was indicating the enormous Christmas tree. She was particularly proud of the one she had this year as unusually for a Christmas tree she had grown it herself. Admittedly she’d got the seeds from an alien market when the Doctor had his back turned but it had turned out just beautifully and had only taken 48 hours to get to its full 6ft height.

‘Maybe it has,’ she said mysteriously, ‘Maybe it hasn’t.’

‘Clara stop being childish and let me back in. We’ve spoken about this. I am not interested in Christmas, not in the slightest, it’s silly.’

‘If you want back in, just move me,’ she challenged. The Doctor glowered at her. He knew that she knew he wouldn’t dare move her as that would mean touching her and touching her would mean they were in each other’s personal space and he was distinctly not comfortable with that.

‘Let me in,’ he said lowly.

‘No,’ they stood facing each other for a second waiting for one or the other to give in. Unfortunately for the Doctor he suspected it would not be Clara.

‘Are you going to stand there all day?’ he asked.

‘If I have to, but I won’t have to…’

‘How do you figure that? You’ll have to move eventually.’

‘Not if I do this,’ and she lunged again this time aiming for his inside jacket pockets. The Doctor spluttered completely at a loss as to how to cope with the flurry of her hands over his body as she patted down pockets and ran her fingers down his sides. He twisted in an attempt to get away that looked suspiciously like he was ticklish. ‘Come on where is it?‘ Clara said mercilessly and just for good measure wriggled her fingers at his waist to test her ticklish theory. Definitely a response there, she thought.

‘Where’s what?’ The Doctor said a little squeakily.

‘The key, I know you have one… wait..’ and she attacked him again this time to his absolute horror diving for his trouser pockets, a hand in each, where she fumbled for an unpleasantly long time before exclaiming her victory and pulling out the key to the TARDIS. Before he could recover his dignity she had quickly jammed it in the lock and secured the time machine.

The Doctor was slightly bent over, leaning on his knees and looking a little flushed around the edges. Clara grinned and waved the key at him.

‘Give me that,’ he growled trying to disguise that he was a modicum out of breath.

‘Come and get it,’ Clara sing songed back at him.

‘Clara,’ his tone was deep with warning as he straightened and took a step towards her. She flattened herself against the TARDIS.

‘You don’t scare me,’ she said playfully, ‘And you’re not getting this key.’

‘We’ll see about that. Now give it back.’

‘No,’ she looked up at him as he loomed over her, very close now so that their bodies were practically touching and she could feel his breath on her face still coming in ragged little pants. Clara felt suddenly very warm.

‘Give… it…. Back’ he leaned against the TARDIS with both arms, pinning her between them but still not actually touching. And suddenly he was very close indeed and that breath was on her lips. Clara couldn’t pull her eyes away from his as she felt him now press against her and her own breathing sped up a little.

‘Make me,’ she said and his eyes darkened.

‘You don’t want that,’ his voice rumbled in his chest.

‘You’re not getting this key,’

‘I always get what I want, Clara,’ and the words alongside his intense stare went straight to her knees which turned to jelly. What was she doing? Clara quickly pulled forward the front of her jumper and dropped the key inside. The Doctor’s expression was a mixture of horror and arousal she had never seen before.

‘If you want the key you’ll have to get it yourself,’ she said feeling a little stronger. She could feel the cold key sitting against her breast and wondered for a fleeting moment if he would actually try to retrieve it. ‘Otherwise you’ll just have to stay here for Christmas day and like it.’

The Doctor scowled at her and shoved himself away from the TARDIS forcefully so that she felt suddenly exposed without his body against hers. He spun angrily.

‘Fine. You play your little game Clara, you keep the key. Torment me all you like with your…’ he gestured disdainfully, ‘ _Tree_ and your sparkly things and your awful music,’ he pointed in the direction of the kitchen and the tell tale radio which quietly played an endless loop of cheery Christmas songs.

‘It’s not awful, it’s festive and yes I will, thank you, I’ll torment you as much as I like because it’s for your own good.’

‘My own good?’ he replied spinning back to face her again, his jacket flaring with angry red wings, ‘How on the planets do you work that one out?’

‘Well for a start it means you not going anywhere.’

‘And this is a good thing?’

‘At Christmas time yes. You and Christmas, you don’t go very well together.’

‘Well you can’t expect us to, I spent nine hundred years in that town and I’ve seen enough snow and fairy lights to last me the rest of my considerably long days.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Exactly what?’ he cried in exasperation.

‘You… Christmas… it ends in disaster every time. I’ve seen the records the TARDIS keeps. You seem to get yourself into bother every year and last year was just a belter wasn’t it? All you had to do was have dinner with my family and first you turn up naked…’

He glared at her, ‘well I won’t be doing that again I assure you…’

‘… and then as if that isn’t bad enough you end up on Trenzalore, age nine hundred years fighting a war and _die_. _Again_. It’s not the first time you’ve died on Christmas day and regenerated but while I’m around it _will_ be your last. There will be no dying at Christmas.’ She folded her arms and stared at him petulantly.

‘You are…’ he stuttered, ‘You are utterly ridiculous Clara, I’m not going to die.’

‘You want to go to the Mantis planet. On Christmas day. You’re telling me that’s not going to end badly.’

‘Why would it?’

‘Because they are huge man eating mantis, that’s why!’

The Doctor ran his hands through his hair in frustration. ‘Clara I’m not planning to get myself eaten by a mantis….’

‘You never do!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s the problem, you never plan anything you just take off on an adventure and before you know it you’re trapped on a planet for a millennium and you’ve sent me away, on Christmas day, to have the most miserable Christmas dinner ever with my family while I have to sit there and think about you aging and dying and being alone and it’s not fair, Doctor, it’s not fair that you do that to me and I’m not letting you do it again, I’ll stop you going if it’s the last thing I do, I’m your Impossible Girl and that’s what I do, stop you being impossible, stop you getting killed, stop you being _dead_!’

And Clara suddenly stopped aware that her composure had slipped and with it she had started to cry. The Doctor looked at her wide eyed for a moment. Clara took a shuddery breath and tried to look anywhere but him. There was an awkward silence. The Doctor looked down at his feet before apparently making some form of decision and approaching her tentatively.

‘Clara?’

She sniffed.

‘Just do as you’re told for once,’ she said quietly. ‘Last year was horrible and it’s taken me all this time to get used to who you are post regeneration. I don’t need to go through all that again, ‘ she looked at him cautiously, ‘and neither do you,’ she added. ‘It’s just today, you can do that right? Just today?’

He was standing over her again looking at her carefully his eyes flicking over her face curiously, watching as a tear tracked its way down her cheek. She brushed it away roughly with the back of her hand and tried to look at him with some level of defiance. His expression was softer that she had seen in in a long time.

‘OK,’ he said quietly without any resistance at all, ‘You’re the boss.’

Clara gave him a small smile and nodded to herself. ‘Good. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a Turkey to baste.’

‘One thing,’

‘Yes,’ she turned back to him expecting a protest about something or a condition of his stay, but instead he simply reached for her arms and pulled her towards him so unexpectedly that she almost lost her balance and caught herself against his chest. There was a beat and then she felt his arms come up around her, holding her closely while his face nuzzled her hair. She nearly started to cry again at the sensation, he hadn’t held her like that all year and she missed it so much. Clara felt his hand move softly up and down her back in long soothing strokes and she wished it could go on forever but eventually he released her, replacing her at a suitable distance from him and tucking a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.

‘Merry Christmas,’ he said a little awkwardly, ‘Now go away and cook. I’ll be here.’

‘How do I know you won’t try to escape?’ she asked just to have something to say.

The Doctor dumped himself down on the sofa and glanced up at her, ‘I wouldn’t dare.’ Clara took that as the most assurance she would get.

XXXXXXXX

Time passed and he was dimly aware of her clanking about in there and the rustle of bags full of ingredients. Now and then the fan oven would roar as she opened it and checked the Turkey. At other points he could hear her singing along to the radio in snippets that were not perfectly in tune, but despite himself it brought a smile to his face.

What didn’t bring a smile to his face was Clara’s outburst or how upset she had seemed, with him, with herself to some extent, with the whole Trenzalore business. They never really spoke about it and then suddenly there it was, erupting all over the place with hidden emotion. He’d had no idea and her response had come as a bit of a shock. She was frightened, afraid it was going to happen all over again and to be honest he couldn’t guarantee that it wouldn’t because those sorts of things happened to him all the time. But he could comply with her today and make sure he didn’t ruin another of her Christmases, he owed her that.

The Doctor stared reproachfully at the Christmas tree resplendent in golden tinsel. It stared mockingly back, dangling its pretty ornaments and flashing its glitzy star. It was so upbeat and joyful it practically oozed good cheer into the very air. He blamed the tree. His former self loved this Christmas business, didn’t really understand it fully but got boyishly excited about it none the less. His current self felt slightly nauseous about the whole affair. He glanced wistfully at the TARDIS. No, he’d promised Clara. This was going to be a long day. He dropped his head onto the back of the sofa and gazed at the ceiling. A long day made longer by the little minx hiding the key in her bosom. Dear Gods that had been tempting. Tempting? Why tempting? What on earth was going on there? Not only was Clara crying on him but she was hiding things in her bra. And he… He had had to fight to rein himself in while she looked up at him breathlessly with those huge eyes and while his body panted just from the feel of her hands searching him for the key.

Breathlessly, she had been breathless. So had he. Did that mean the feeling was mutual? Oh this was getting more awkward by the moment. Well he couldn’t go anywhere, he couldn’t get the key, not unless… The image in his head became altogether more provocative and he quickly sat forward to try and shake it from his mind. No there would be no getting the key. Which meant staying here, eating Christmas dinner and hopefully persuading Clara that he’d be a good boy and not get himself killed and could he go home after pudding?

After a while Clara wandered through, untying her apron as she came to reveal her signature short skirt beneath. The Doctor looked skywards.

‘Right let’s get started’ she said cheerfully.

‘Started with what?’ his eyes snapped back to her. He half hoped it was a game of hunt the key.

‘There’s no need to look so alarmed, I just mean started with Christmas. Everything is cooking, it’s all under control, so we can start the festivities.’

‘Festivities?’ he looked at her cautiously from his seat. Clara sighed.

‘You can be such hard work. I’m getting you a drink.’

‘I don’t really drink alcohol…’

‘Why do you become outrageous when you do?’ called from the kitchen where she had retreated to find some wine, ‘Will I be shocked?’

‘Nothing like that, I just….’

‘Pity,’ she said reappearing with two glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.

‘It’s a bit early isn’t it?’ he said glancing at the clock. He had a feeling he would be glancing at it a lot today.

‘It’s Christmas.’ Clara poured. ‘Drink it. It’s not like you have to take the TARDIS anywhere today.’

He almost pouted at that she thought but instead he grumbled and took a sip of the wine. Clara plopped down beside him on the sofa.

‘So what does Christmas consist of,’ he asked after a moment, ‘What horrors lie ahead of me?’

‘It really isn’t that bad. Food, wine, queen’s speech, afternoon movie. Traditional.’ He turned to look at her sceptically, ‘Well it’s better than Mantis killing!’ she added defensively. ‘Shut up and drink your wine, it’ll help you relax.’

He drank silently for a moment.

‘And take your jacket off. And your shoes. And _try_ to look comfortable. You look like…. Well you look like a magician… or a funeral attendant.’

The Doctor sighed and stood to remove his jacket, draping it over the back of the sofa. He sat down again and Clara’s eyes dropped to his waistcoat.

‘What?’

‘You have a button undone,’ she reached forward to fix it, kneeling next to him on the couch, and suddenly found herself with her hands on the lower part of his chest and her face much closer to his than she had expected. She could smell the sweet wine on his breath. They caught each other’s gaze and she felt her heartrate double.

‘It probably popped open when you were torturing me earlier,’ he said.

‘Torturing you? Not my fault you’re ticklish.’

‘I am _not_ ticklish,’ he retorted. The button was fastened but neither of them had moved.

‘Dangerous thing to claim,’ Clara said and moved her hands just a fraction onto his belly. She felt him stiffen reflexively and turn his head from her just a little. He still held the wine in his right hand. Clara was aware she was looking into his eyes just a little too long. ‘It’s the sort of claim that comes back to haunt you,’ she went on, inwardly shocked at how seductive she was sounding. There was a chink of glass as he set his wine down and turned to face her fully. Clara’s mouth suddenly went dry.

‘Is it indeed,’ he said in a deep tone. ‘Is this something you know for a fact, by dint of your own experience?’ she was suddenly aware of one hand on her hip inching slightly higher as he spoke to her sensitive waist. ‘Two can play that game, Clara.’ She was mesmerised, watching as his pupils expanded at the sight of her and tantalised by the feel of his palm sliding up her ribcage. Her lips parted instinctively and she felt heat pool between her legs. She shifted closer to him and felt the warmth radiating off his usually cool skin.

‘Doctor,’ she breathed, and let her hands slip a little lower on his abdomen.

He looked away from her sharply, colour flaring to his cheeks and Clara retreated a little surprised. It felt as though they had been in a trance and now that the spell was shattered she felt flustered and embarrassed. She quickly stood and excused herself to the kitchen again.

The Doctor exhaled heavily, trying to ease some of the tension from his body now that she was out of his direct proximity. He bit the end of his tongue a little in frustration and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He couldn’t even blame the wine, he’d barely touch it as yet, but rather it was her maddening intoxicating presence in this irritatingly domestic little scene. There were no monsters to run from and distract him here, well at least not the usual type of monster, he was fairly certain his metaphorical ones were having a field day.

In the kitchen Clara was giving herself a good talking to while she brutally peeled some vegetables. What was she thinking of touching him like that, _there_? Even when he had been youthful and affectionate she had drawn a line. There was no way he would normally tolerate her running her hands down him the way she just had now…. Except he just had to some extent and the look in his eyes…

Clara brought the knife down sharply on a carrot. Stop it. She stabbed it into the chopping board. She would not have sexy thoughts about the Doctor. It was wrong. She had trapped him here for his own benefit, for his safety, it wasn’t fair to trap him here with her hormones too, he wouldn’t be bargaining on that. It would only make him uncomfortable, make him squirm. A sudden image of him squirming entered her head and her eyes widened.

‘For God’s sake, Clara,’ she muttered to herself in her best school teacher tones. ‘Stop it immediately. This is not the point of today, you’re doing this to stop him killing himself.’

But why, the devilish voice in her head countered, did she want to protect him so badly?

‘Because that’s what I do,’ she argued with herself, ‘Because he means a lot to me, because…’

‘I’m not saying _that_ ,’ she admonished her brain.

‘Clara, are you speaking to yourself?’ The Doctor leaned on the doorframe with his wineglass in hand.

‘Maybe,’ she looked sheepish, ‘a bit.’

He glanced at the vegetables and the knife which was still embedded in the chopping board. ‘Need a hand with that? It appears to be rather stressful for you.’

‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she said quickly.

‘What aren’t you going to say?’ he asked picking up on her solo conversation.

‘Nothing, oh nothing important,’ she yanked the knife free and busied herself again. ‘Go and relax, I’m fine here…’

He eyed her carefully for a moment taking in the blush on her cheeks and the way her eyes seemed to be sparkling. He really had to get out of here because whatever was happening in this flat between him and Clara, the feelings appeared to be mutual, and worse still growing.

XXXXXXXX

In the living room the Doctor stood considering the window. If he couldn’t take the TARDIS maybe he should go out the window? Windows were much more him than doors and she wouldn’t expect it. Except that it did look rather cold out there and well he’d taken his shoes off now and… wait… was he making excuses to himself? He brought his hand to his face and rubbed at his forehead for a moment before ruffling his hair in despair at his own thoughts. This was getting worse by the second. There had to be a reason for it.

‘Don’t!’ Clara’s voice came from behind him causing him to jump.

‘Don’t what?’ he asked defensively.

‘Don’t go out the window, I know you, there will be no going out the window.’

‘Look Clara nothing is going to happen to me out there is it?’

‘Says the man who is just as capable of finding trouble on earth as he is anywhere else. No. Sit down and don’t move until I’ve fed you so full of stuffing that moving is an impossibility and even then I’m only going to let you go as far as the bathroom.’ She pointed sternly to the kitchen, ‘Dinner is served.’

‘Fine, fine,’ he drained his wine glass and held his hands up in submission. Food he could deal with. Food didn’t give him swirly feelings or make him breathless. Food was simple.

The food Clara had made was not simple it was a banquet. He was going to be there for a while. Heaped on the kitchen table were several types of stuffing, an equal variety of vegetables a number of which he had watched being slayed earlier, and tray upon tray of delicacies to go with the enormous Turkey which took pride of place.

‘Ta-da!’ Clara said gesturing theatrically to the table. ‘Now you can’t seriously tell me you’d rather be out hunting giant bugs?’

‘Well…’ he said scratching the side of his nose and looking like he might prefer just that. Clara belted his arm with an oven glove and he chuckled, ‘No, I’ll give you this one, you win Clara Oswald,’ he admitted.

‘Thank you,’ she smiled and pulled out a chair for him, ‘Sit, I’ll serve, bit of everything?’

‘I think you may be trying to kill me yourself,’

‘It’s traditional to eat until you feel ill,’

‘Right well heaven forbid I interfere with Oswald tradition.’

Clara began to carve up the Turkey and pile steaming food onto both their plates. She topped up their wine and pushed the various plates of extras towards the Doctor whenever she felt he was beginning to clear his plate.

‘You need to eat more,’ she said after a few more minutes. The Doctor raised his eyebrows. ‘I mean in general, you’re doing quite well just now, but in general you need to eat more, there’s nothing of you.’

‘I’m perfectly well proportioned thank you,’ he said between mouthfuls.

Clara blushed and tried to rephrase. ‘Nonsense you’ll blow over in a strong wind.’

‘I’ve survived a number of strong winds including the TARDIS decompressing and trying to blow me out her open doors into space.’

‘You still need a bit more meat on your bones,’ she reached to serve more turkey.

‘But no more on my plate or I’ll expire.’

Clara stuck her lip out.

‘No. More,’ he emphasised leaning back in his chair in some discomfort. The bottom button of his waistcoat popped and Clara giggled.

‘Just undo it, the button is trying to tell you something.’

The Doctor glanced across at her his face unreadable for a moment before his smile surfaced and Clara relaxed. He reached down and quickly released the rest of the buttons. ‘Happy?’

‘Yes, come on, Queen’s speech.’

‘Does it mean moving?’

Clara made a show of dragging herself up from the table with huge effort and then pulling him to his feet. She turned and pointed him in the direction of the living room before propelling him forward.

‘There, not so difficult,’ she said.

The Doctor collapsed back onto his end of the sofa and stretched out. Clara curled up next to him. ‘If you fall asleep don’t snore, it’s tantamount to treason while she’s talking.’

He frowned, ‘I do not snore.’

‘Don’t you?’

‘I don’t sleep!’

‘I’ve seen you sleep.’

‘I’d just regenerated that’s different. It’s surprisingly tiring.’

‘I’ve seen you sleep,’ Clara insisted flicking on the TV. ‘Just admit it. You’re not invincible. You eat and sleep and breathe air. You have the same needs we do.’

‘Not quite.’

‘OK you don’t need your eight hours a night but the basic principle is the same. All the things people need, nutrition, rest, comfort, _company_ , you need too.’

The Doctor shot her a sideways glance, ‘Harumph.’

‘You’re not really grumpy, when you’re really grumpy you just glare at me.’

Despite himself his lip twitched. His Impossible Girl did know him well. Clara elbowed him and grinned. ‘See.’

 

The Queens Speech over, the point of which was completely lost on the Doctor, Clara insisted they settle in to watch the big film of the afternoon which to her delight appeared to be some sort of romantic fairytale cartoon. By this point however the Doctor was too full and too lethargic to really care and had even stopped entertaining fantasies of escape. Something wasn’t quite right but he couldn’t place his finger on it and the huge helping of turkey dinner appeared to have lulled his mind quite extensively. He had even justified staying to himself as something which was important to Clara and did no harm really and he could keep control of himself even as she edged closer while watching the film, until she somehow had worked her way to right up against his body, her head on his shoulder. He was forced to put his arm around her or he’d be terribly uncomfortable and of course she took this as a cue to snuggle down further. He absently ran his fingers through her hair as the film progressed and let his eyes close. He could smell her shampoo, cooking and beneath that the unique smell of her which clung to her skin. Despite himself he nuzzled her hair for the second time that day and was rewarded by Clara shifting warmly against him, just a fraction closer. The tension he had felt with her earlier, desire and arousal, was still present but subdued a little by fatigue and the gentle atmosphere she had created in her warm living room.

What was happening? The curious voice in his head niggled at him with increasing irritation but he was more and more tempted to dismiss it. Everything was perfectly all right. It was just Christmas at Clara’s. A meal and a few quaint human traditions. It was perfectly safe. He was perfectly… He tried to place the feeling that lay over him now like a blanket but a sniffle from the vicinity of his chest broke his thoughts.

‘Clara?’

‘I’m not crying at the movie.’

‘Right, that’s OK then.’

‘Yes,’ another sniff.

‘Why are you ‘not crying at the movie’ anyway?’

‘I’m not crying because it isn’t remotely sad and romantic at all, that’s all you need to know seeing as you’re not even watching it because you are dozing off!’

She prodded him hard in the stomach.

‘Ouch! I am not dozing… I’m thinking.’ Or trying to think anyway.

Clara laughed and went back to the film. The Doctor closed his eyes again and took a deep breath which he let out slowly and squeezed her shoulder gently, pulling her just a little closer still so that his other arm could loop round and hold her in place. Clara froze. That was a proper hug and he seemed to be oblivious. She was central in his arms, head against his chest listening to the rhythmic thuds of his double heartbeat. She watched as the final scenes of the film played out and the princess was united with her prince. Suddenly her little flat with its cosy lighting, the big Christmas tree and its decorations twinkling seemed very magical. Slowly she pushed herself up and smiled as the Doctor made a small noise of protest when his arms came free.

‘You know if you need a nap…’ she started and his eyes sprung open.

‘I do not need a nap.’

‘We did have a lot of food, it’s quite usual to doze off afterwards, if you’d like…’ her heart started doing summersaults in her chest. Was she really going to suggest this? It was like watching herself from afar, or stuck behind a glass wall unable to communicate with this other version of Clara who seemed to be intent on doing something highly inappropriate. She felt her hand drop to his leg. ‘If you’d like we could have a lie down for a bit…..’

Something flared in his eyes which was akin to panic and then as quickly as it appeared it seemed to morph into something quite different. He tilted his head, observing her.

‘You want to lie down?’ he checked. Clara nodded. ‘For…. A nap?’

‘Mm…hmm,’ she hummed. Clara what are you doing? Wait what was _he_ doing? He appeared to be considering it. She slipped her hand a little higher on his thigh half expecting the sudden painful response he had demonstrated earlier when she had crossed a line on his body. But he looked down at it, lying there on his lap and after a pause, covered it with his own. Clara felt the electricity shoot up her arm and the nerves jangle in her gut but she heard her voice, calm and filled with confidence purr her instruction to him. ‘Come on then,’ she said.

 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Her bedroom was cooler than the warm living room and she crossed it in darkness to reach for her table lamp.

‘Leave it,’ he instructed and she paused hand outstretched for the switch. ‘We don’t need light.’ There was something in his tone that made her obey and she felt that trance slipping over her again but didn’t want to fight it. Clara felt a pair of arms wrap round her middle and instinctively pressed herself backwards into him with a soft hiss. The Doctor dropped his lips to her neck and she tilted her head to expose it further for him. One of his hands move up her body, caressing her stomach under her jumper as his mouth kissed under her ear lobe, leaving a wet trail along her pulse point. Clara moaned slightly at his touch and pressed further into him gasping a little as she felt him harden behind her. ‘Doctor…’

‘Turn around,’ and she moved easily in his grasp so that she was facing him, looking up at his dark eyes in the limited light of the room. She caught a flicker of his smile as he gazed down at her and then his mouth closed on hers. His kiss was deep and knowing and the desire flooded her as his hands worked over her body, highlighting each thrust of his tongue. When after a few moments he freed her he turned instead to her neck again and drew his hands up to her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples until she squirmed in his grip and made soft needy noises against his ear. ‘Clara,’ he breathed and gripped her tighter, pressing the length of himself into her belly.

Clara’s mind was racing though she was no longer able to think in any coherent fashion. She just knew that she needed him and that whatever had been building over the course of the day was reaching its inevitable climax and that even if her sensible self could have a say in events she would likely be ignored by the version of her she was watching now running her hands over the Doctor’s chest and removing his waistcoat, dipping down to caress him through the fabric of his trousers, smiling as he bucked against her hand. She didn’t understand it but it felt right as he lifted her jumper from her and bent to lay sweet kisses across the skin of her chest, his tongue dipping between her breasts while one hand snaked around her to release her bra. Oh god he felt good, he felt good, he….

He’d stopped.

‘Clara opened her eyes hazily, ‘Doctor?’ He was standing in front of her looking dishevelled, shirt half unbuttoned and pulled from his trousers. He was also looking down into the palm of his hand. Clara followed his gaze and saw the glint of the TARDIS key which until now had been concealed against her left breast. The Doctor looked up at her.

‘Key,’ he said simply.

‘Yes forgot about that,’ Clara reached for him again but he backed away a step. Her smile faltered and she suddenly felt exposed, crossing her arms over her chest to cover her breasts.

‘Clara what’s going on?’

‘What do you mean what’s going on I would have thought it was perfectly obvious. Anyway you started it.’

He scowled at her. ‘No I mean why…. Why are we doing this… now?’

Clara’s eyes flitted round the room. ‘I…. I don’t know… it’s sort of been there all day…’

‘I know,’ he said examining the key. ‘Clara, this isn’t happening. I mean it _shouldn’t_.’

‘Right… not happening,’ she grabbed her jumper with one hand and turned around, puting it on with her back to him.

‘I should leave,’ he said.

‘You should…. No wait…’ Clara said spinning back to him, ‘No leaving, it’s still Christmas.’

‘Clara,’ his voice was frustration itself as he moved back to the living room, ‘I am not about to go on any adventures now, I just need to…. I need to leave.’ He reached the TARDIS and put the key in the lock. Clara nearly fell over herself chasing him to its door.

‘No!’

‘Clara I can’t stay,’ he said sternly, ‘I don’t know what’s going on here but it…. It wouldn’t be wise.’ Clara hopped on the spot.

‘I won’t touch,’ she said, ‘Promise, we can figure out what’s going on and stop it, but we don’t leave this flat understand? Leaving the flat and solving mysteries on Christmas day ends badly. Presumably whatever is going on inside the flat tonight is odd but ultimately harmless…’

‘Harmless! I wouldn’t call what just nearly happened harmless!’ the Doctor said.

‘A bit of kissing _is_ harmless!’ Clara snapped, ‘It’s harmless and… well it’s quite…. Nice…. That is if you don’t have massive hang ups about personal space and touching.’ The Doctor looked affronted and Clara wracked it down a notch. ‘I just mean it’s not scary dangerous. It’s not Daleks or Cybermen or Weeping Angels. It’s just… a bit odd. We’re two mature people we can figure this out.’

He stared at her for a moment longer before relenting.

‘Fine,’ he grumbled and went to stand over by the sofa placing as many feet between them as he could. Clara gave the TARDIS an angry look and moved to the opposite side of the room by the Christmas tree.

‘So… what could it be?’ she asked, ‘That’s making us feel all…’ she searched for a suitable word.

‘Rampant?’ he queried.

Clara blushed at his choice of description and cleared her throat, ‘Rampant is a strong word.’

‘It’s a strong feeling,’ he muttered leaning on the sofa and staring down his body. Clara tried not to look.

‘It could be numerous things,’ he continued, ‘Things that make you overly emotional. You’ve been at it all day, crying and worrying, it must be a force field of some sort, or some sort of gas being pumped into your flat with direct effect on the nervous system.’

‘Sounds unlikely,’ she said. ‘And I haven’t been _that_ over emotional. And you’ve been just as affected Mr Cuddles. You never cuddle and you keep _hugging_ me.’

He ignored her.

‘What about some form of alien biointerference… modified pheromones transmitted via a virus or infection, maybe even through genetically altered foodstuffs,’ he mused. ‘Have you noticed anything different about your flat, Clara?’

‘No, not really, you?’

‘You mean apart from the monstrous Christmas decorations….’ He shot the tree a withering look.

‘They are not monstrous I thought they looked rather nice this year. I’ve wanted a big tree for ages but it was always so difficult to drag it up the stairs so I only ever got little ones…’

The Doctor looked at her quickly, ‘Well how did this one get in?’

‘I grew it.’

‘You _grew_ it?’ he stared at her palely, ‘From… what exactly?’

‘From a seed I picked up in….. oh…’ Clara looked at the tree next to her. The Doctor was making his way across the room to do the same. ‘You don’t think it’s…’ he reached its branches and leaned forward to sniff at them.

‘Really Clara!’ he cried despairingly, ‘What have I told you about alien marketplaces? Do _not_ trust the salespeople there. Yes you’ve most likely got yourself a lovely little Nicholzaline Frenzy tree here, grows in a couple of days, looks quite the part except its pumping out aphrodisiac gases into the room and we’re currently intoxicated.’

‘Oh,’ she said eyes wide.

‘No wonder I can’t get it under control…’ he muttered.

‘Get what under control?’

‘Never mind.’

‘So… what should I do with it?’ Clara asked.

‘Get rid of it, chuck it out the window!’

‘It’s a bit big,’ she said.

‘Well it can’t stay here!’ he looked at her seriously, ‘It’s me or the tree, Clara.’

‘What if I just moved it to another room?’

‘No that’s not enough, it has to go.’

Clara sighed. She could hear the logic but she liked her tree and she didn’t really want to give it up. The Doctor would only be there one night and she had the rest of the festive season to go and now she’d be treeless. But he wasn’t for negotiating so she unplugged the fairy lights and started bundling them up. The Doctor strode across the room and opened the window wide.

‘Oi its freezing,’ Clara said.

‘Need to air the place, no arguing.’

She started picking decorations and tinsel off the tree and laying them in a pile at her feet.

‘Doctor,’

‘What?’ he replied from the window where he was sucking in deep clean breaths of night air.

‘Come here and get the star off the top for me.’

‘I am not going anywhere near that tree.’

‘Oh for goodness sake it’s not that bad, we know what’s going on now… just get the star.’

Reluctantly he appeared by her side and reached for the ornament. ‘There.’

‘Thank you,’ she took it from him brushing his hand as she did so and they locked eyes. The by now familiar look on the Doctor’s face returned and Clara caught her breath. She felt his hand close around her wrist a little painfully and before she knew it his lips were on hers again, more urgently this time and he was pushing her back towards the sofa while her hands clawed at his back and she begged with her hips for him to lift her and let her wrap herself around him. They crashed down on the couch with him firmly on top and they mouths sealed together, drinking desperately from each other as the Doctor ground his pelvis into Clara’s. She wrenched free to find oxygen and he moved to nip her neck, hands pushing back under her clothing.

‘Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop,’ Clara panted.

‘Clara,’ he panted even as he kissed her, ‘This isn’t…. it’s not real.’

‘I don’t care.’

‘It’s the tree!’

‘I don’t care,’ she kissed him hard, sucking at his lower lip and reaching to dig her hands into his backside, levering him up her body even as she disrobed him. ‘I don’t care if it’s the bloody tree, Doctor!’

He grunted and she could feel her skirt being pulled up, his hands then working to remove her underwear. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and quickly undid his trousers in return, reaching inside to find him heavy and hard to the touch. He was panting against her now and she became suddenly aware of the speed of her own breathing and the symphony of little noises they were making together out of need. She just needed this to get past the point of no return, if he backed out now, if he suddenly changed his mind she might never recover. Clara had to have him, and she had to have him right now, inside her, no arguments.

She grabbed his face and brought him to her, ‘Doctor, _please_.’

He looked down at her inscrutable for just a moment and her heart froze. Then she felt him against her pushing and her body opened to him and they were there. There would be no stopping now. He filled her deeply, urgently and Clara couldn’t help the wide natural smile that crossed her lips even as he thrust into her. Oh god it was incredible, it was like a drug, it was…..

‘Doctor!’

They lay panting and still joined for minutes afterwards, Clara working her fingers through his hair gently while his breathing levelled out. She could feel the dampness of their skin pressed against one another and the beating of their hearts. She made a soft noise and nuzzled at his ear but he didn’t object.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she said.

The Doctor groaned.

‘What? What is it?’ she asked and he sat up slightly.

‘Clara what have we done? What have _I_ done?’ he covered his eyes, ‘I’ve ruined everything.’

‘No you haven’t,’ what are you talking about? It was great. It was better than great, you’re amazing….’

‘Clara, I never should have taken advantage.’

‘You didn’t’

‘I did! The tree has been pumping out chemicals all day, neither of us are thinking straight, You’re human and humans have no will power but I’m a Time Lord I‘m supposed to be able to resist.’ He slumped back down into her arms and she couldn’t help but giggle. ‘It’s not funny,’ he sniped.

‘It is a bit,’ she said. ‘Honestly I don’t feel taken advantage of by the mighty willpowerless Time Lord.’

Her face fell as he pushed himself up and off her and started replacing his clothing.

‘Really,’ Clara said her voice betraying her panic, ‘you shouldn’t worry … it… it’s ok… please don’t…’

The Doctor, now largely dressed, got up and walked to the tree, ‘This _thing_ ,’ he pointed angrily, ‘has potentially destroyed our relationship with its noxious gas, it’s not something we can easily get past Clara, it’s complex.’

‘Well let’s not freak out yet,’

The Doctor glared at her and then back at the tree, ‘Let’s see just what little games you’ve been playing with my chemicals,’ he pointed his sonic screwdriver in its direction and initiated a scan. It hummed thoughtfully and its light went out. He frowned, shaking it and trying again.

Clara sat on the sofa miserably gathering her clothing around her. Stupid tree. ‘Well?’

The Doctor grew quiet.

‘Well, were you completely unhinged, were we both just totally delusional, are we going to wake up tomorrow and hate one another?’ Clara asked.

‘Um… no, no and possibly.’

‘What?’

He turned round. ‘It’s just a tree, Clara. Just an ordinary tree.’

‘But it grew in two days.’

‘Yes well it has been modified to spring up practically overnight but other than that it’s…. well it’s a fir tree….’

Clara stared at him with her mouth open and then snapped it shut and looked away. She felt her cheeks burn. ‘You mean…’

‘I mean there’s no reason why we….’

‘Oh.’

‘I mean except for the usual reasons why people…’

‘ _Oh_ ,’

He return to sit on the sofa next to her, clothes rumpled and somewhat dazed.

‘So,’ Clara said, ‘What do we do now?’ She couldn’t look at him.

‘Well it would seem we have a few options,’ he said and she nodded. ‘Ignore it and hope it goes away. Acknowledge it but move on and never go back there again. Or….’

‘Or…’

‘Or,’ he paused and then held out his hand in her direction. Clara tucked her fingers around his. ‘Or we accept it happened,’ he said. They both stared at the tree for a moment before she cautiously looked across at him, swallowing slightly with nerves.

‘We just had sex,’ she whispered.

‘I’m aware of that, I was there.’

‘I don’t want to ignore it or pretend it never happened.’ She saw him pass his free hand over his face. ‘I mean if it wasn’t the tree… then well it was us wasn’t it, it came from us? I didn’t know you felt like that.’

‘Do we have to talk about feelings?’ he moaned.

‘Yes!’

‘OK fine yes I feel like that,’ he blurted in a rush.

‘Like what?’

‘ _That._ Don’t make me say it.’

‘OK….So do I.’

‘Well that’s settled then.’

‘It is?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK.’

After a moment the Doctor allowed himself to sit back into the sofa again and reached for his long abandoned glass of wine. Clara scooted closer to him and after just a second’s hesitation she felt his arm encircle her again and pull her towards him.

‘Doctor?’ she asked cautiously. He looked at her carefully, his eyes warning her not to mention anything too sappy.

‘What?’

‘I’m going to fix the tree. It looks sad without its tinsel.’

He sighed and took a drink. ‘If you must…’

Clara stood and in doing so let her bundle of clothing fall away from her naked body. She bent to pick up an ornament and stretched to reach the top of the tree but of course could not reach. She turned back to him.

‘Doctor?’ he glanced up and cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Will you help me with the star?’ She asked innocently

Clara had never seen him move so fast.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
